Killigan's Folly
by Jezrianna2.0
Summary: [Complete]A well earned vacation is interrupted when Kim and Ron stumble across Duff Killigan's latest scheme.
1. Metropolis Here We Come

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Note: This story takes place a year before the events in 'Monkeys Amok'.

Kim Possible yawned and stretched. Sitting still wasn't one of the athletic redhead's favorite pastimes. Her enforced inactivity had left her with a surplus of energy, and she was looking forward to burning some of it off. At least the hotel they'd be staying at had a large pool and a health spa. That would do for starters. 'Well, for me anyway,' she said to herself. She turned her head to look at the young man sitting next to her. Ron Stoppable, her best friend for as long as she could remember, was sleeping, which was definitely one of his favorite pastimes. A fond smile touched Kim's lips, followed closely by a wicked grin. Reaching out, she snapped her fingers under Ron's nose.

"Ron!"

"GHAH!" he yelped, as he jerked awake. "Whazzat? Wha? Huh? I'm up, I'm up!"

Kim giggled, and Ron gave her a sour look. "I'll have you know," he grumbled, "that you interrupted a perfectly good dream."

"Was she pretty?" Kim inquired with a sly smile.

Ron blushed. "Yes," he declared defensively. "As a matter of fact she was."

Kim leaned back in her seat and smirked. "I figured as much." Ron's most favored pastime was daydreaming about girls, not too surprising a thing for a seventeen year old boy to be doing. Kim enjoyed twitting him about it, especially now that it was safe to do so, what with Ron enjoying a run of good "luck with the ladies" as he put it. In all honesty though, she was happy for him. Ron's self confidence had grown considerably in the last year, and he was a lot more comfortable with himself, with who he was. All of which made it a lot easier for him to get dates.

Ron rubbed his eyes and looked around. The First Class cabin of the 757 was full, naturally, with the Possible clan (plus one Stoppable) occupying a significant portion of it. Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible were sitting across the aisle, with Kim's younger brothers, the twins Jim and Tim, occupying the row ahead of their parents. Ron grinned at Kim. "I still can't believe we're going to Metropolis!" he exclaimed quietly. "The City of Tomorrow! Man, I can hardly wait!"

Kim chuckled. "This from a man who slept for almost the whole flight."

Ron held up his hands. "Hey, flying is very demanding. It's no surprise that it took a lot out of me."

"Well, now that you're well rested, you might want to look out the window. We're almost there." Ron turned his attention to the vista outside the jet, and Kim smiled again. She was really looking forward to spending a week relaxing in the Big Apricot. She and Ron would be starting their junior year in high school in a few weeks, after a summer vacation that hadn't seen much down time. Mission had followed mission without a break, and if most of them weren't terribly risky, they had had soaked up a lot of her free time. Things had quieted down recently, though, and when her mom got invited to a neurosurgery conference at the Metropolis University Medical School and offered to take the whole family along Kim had jumped at the chance. Of course it meant not seeing Josh for a week, but if last night's goodbye date was any indication, the welcome home date would be well worth it. Kim sighed happily, enjoying the warm feeling that came over her whenever she thought of Josh Mankey, he of the oh-so-easy-to-get-lost-in eyes and deliciously kissable lips. She wished, briefly, that Josh had been able to come along and had to stifle a giggle. She could just imagine her father's reaction if she had suggested that. Oh well. On the bright side her dad had the tweebs' booked solid for most of the week, which meant that she and Ron would be free to explore the city and just hang out. They hadn't gotten to do much of that recently. Oh sure, they'd gone on a few double dates, her with Josh, Ron with his girlfriend of the day, but that wasn't the same. Kim had been a bit surprised when she realized how much she missed that, and quite gratified to learn that Ron felt the same way. The two of them had spent a lot of time in the run up to the trip excitedly planning their activities and listing the sights they wanted to see.

Kim was stirred from her reverie by the pilot announcing that they would be landing soon and instructing everyone to fasten their seatbelts and return their seats and tray tables to their stowed and upright positions. As the people around her complied, and the flight attendants took a quick turn around the cabin to collect cups and other utensils, Kim made up her mind that First Class was far and away the best way to travel by air. Her parents had gotten free tickets in coach, courtesy of the conference organizers, but had to spring for Kim, Jim and Tim's tickets out of their own pockets. They had been willing to let Ron come along, of course, since he was almost like family, but had been hesitant about the cost. Fortunately Ron had been able to pony up the cash for the ticket, and even chip in on the hotel rooms (at the expense of depleting his savings, which hadn't seemed to bother him in the least). It was Kim, though, who had gotten everyone an upgrade to First Class.

'It's amazing what saving a plane load of people from would-be terrorists can get you,' she mused with a self-satisfied smile. True, the terrorists in question had been rank amatures, and Kim had beaten them without breaking a sweat. Still, the management of the airline had been immensely grateful, and no doubt thought they'd got the better end of the deal when all Kim asked for in exchange was six round trip tickets.

The advantages of First Class showed themselves again at the airport, where they reached the baggage claim area to find their bags already waiting for them.

The limo ride from the airport to the hotel was impressive as well. Instead of a run-of-the-mill stretched Cadillac or Lincoln, the hotel car was a custom made Rolls Royce. As they motored into the city center and through the gleaming canyons of downtown Kim decided that this was the good life, and that she could definitely get used to it.

At their hotel, the Metropolis Hyatt Regency, Kim got a pleasant if completely unexpected surprise. She had figured that her parents would get two rooms, putting her in with them, and sticking Ron with the tweebs. Instead, they'd opted for a private room, and had surprised and thrilled the tweebs by putting them in a room of their own. Kim was sure that that was a recipe for disaster, but on the other hand it meant that she and Ron wouldn't have to put up with Jim and Tim's antics while they were trying to sleep at night.

Their rooms were all on the twelfth floor of the hotel. Kim's 'rents were in the room directly across from the one she and Ron were in, with the tweebs' in an adjoining, connected room.

'A sensible precaution,' Kim had thought when she first heard it. Jim and Tim were quite apt to tear their room to shreds unless the folks could intervene quickly, and the connecting rooms would allow just that.

Kim had gasped in awe when she and Ron had pushed open the door to the room they would be sharing. 'Room' was too small a word for what lay beyond the door. 'Suite' was much more appropriate, at least in Kim's eyes. There was the bedroom itself, with its pair of queen-sized beds, entertainment center, and desk, table, and leather easy chairs. The main door opened into a small foyer that broadened into a kitchenette. The bathroom was enormous, for a hotel, with his and hers sinks and a huge shower/tub that had built in massage jets. It wasn't _quite_ an in-room hot tub, but it was close. And the view! The room had a private balcony that offered a spectacular vista of the heart of the city. She was leaning on the railing, admiring the scenery, when Ron joined her.

"Some digs, huh K.P?"

"I'll say," she agreed. "Can you believe this place? I wonder how much it costs."

"Three hundred bucks a night, before tax."

Kim gaped at him. "You're kidding, right?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope, they have the rates posted on the inside of the door. 299.99 per night of double occupancy." 

"Damn! I guess I..." Kim didn't finish her thought, as a knock on the door interrupted her. "Kimmie, Ronald!" Mr. Dr. Possible called.

"Coming, Dad!"

On being let in Mr. Dr. Possible took a quick look around and nodded approvingly. Then he turned his attention to the matter at hand. "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving!" He had no sooner said the words that a loud rumble issued from Ron's stomach. "Hey, me too!"

"What a shock!" Kim said with a mocking smile. Ron just grinned at her.

"Anyway," Mr. Dr. Possible went on, "We're heading down to the hotel restaurant in fifteen minutes, so if you need to get cleaned up, do it now."

Mr. Dr. Possible started to turn to leave when Ron cut him off. "Ooooo! The _hotel_ restaurant? Which one? It has three you know."

"Is there a problem Ronald?"

"Well, maybe. The Green Room? Strictly formalwear only. The Continental Room? Strictly breakfast only. Amelia's Pantry? Way, way, way too generic family dining-y."

Mr. Dr. Possible's eyes narrowed and he gave Ron a speculative look. "You have something else in mind Ronald?"

"Right across the street is a place called Old Pete's Rib Shack. World famous all-you-can-eat barbeque, in the same family for four generations."

Kim gaped at him. "Where did you find that out?" she demanded.

Ron gave her a superior look. "Research ahead of time. While you were checking out museums and art galleries, I was looking up eateries." He held up his Kimmunicator. "I have a list of places we just _have_ to go and eat at, Kim!"

Kim rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. Mr. Dr. Possible looked intrigued as well. "Barbeque works for me," he agreed, "especially the 'all-you-can-eat' part."

"Well then, what are we waiting around here for?" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "Let's go!"


	2. Three Paths

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Duff Killigan sat back and opened the sports section of the Daily Planet. His eyes wandered aimlessly across the columns of scores and season records without anything piquing his interest. Not even the PGA Tour results, normally the first thing he looked at, held any interest for him. The big Scotsman sighed heavily and put down the paper.

"How did it come to this?" he asked himself.

"I'm sorry, sir, where you talking to me?"

Killigan looked up with a start. One of the lackeys assigned to him was standing nearby with a pot of coffee in his hands. Killigan shook his head.

"Nay laddie, I was just talkin' to meself." The youngster assumed an exaggerated expression of understanding. "Would you care for more coffee?" he asked. Killigan nodded. When his cup was full the lackey set the pot on the table. "Are you finished with this, sir?" A gesture indicated the remains of Killigan's breakfast.

"Aye."

As the lackey began to clean up, Killigan picked up his coffee. 'How _did_ it come to this,' he asked himself again, this time taking care not to speak out loud. His latest scheme had ended disastrously. His lair had been destroyed, his minions captured, and his piles of ill-gotten wealth confiscated by the combined efforts of Scotland Yard and teen superhero Kim Possible. Blind chance had allowed him to escape, when the agent guarding him had been distracted just long enough for Killigan to knock him out, seize a jet pack and fly away. Or rather, skim away. His flight had been the most hair-whitening experience of his life, as it had involved wave-hopping across the North Sea at night, in lousy weather to boot. He'd landed in Belgium half frozen and made his way from there to the U.S. Dead broke, he'd been forced to take a job with an established criminal enterprise. Which was how he'd ended up in Metropolis playing gardener for Intergang.

That was part of the reason for his unease. After so long as a criminal mastermind, to take the role of a subordinate was...odd. Not that Killigan felt he was treated like a lackey: far from it. Bruno Mannheim, the man who ran Intergang, was unfailingly polite to Killigan, had given him a seat at the table of Intergang's governing council, paid him well (in the form of a generous cut of the proceeds from Killigan's agricultural undertakings) and not only allowed but encouraged Killigan to diversify his criminal portfolio, as it were, by setting up his own scams, or investing in existing Intergang operations. And all he had to do was supervise the growing of a few hundred thousand marijuana plants. It was so easy that it was a little unnerving.

The other reason for his unease was that he was in Metropolis, home of that annoying, oversized Boy Scout in blue, Superman. How Intergang managed to avoid the notice of the Man of Steel was something Killigan couldn't quite figure out. Mannheim had put it down to the pains Intergang took not to draw attention to themselves, as well as their moles in the Mayor's Office and the Metropolis Police Department, but Killigan could never quite shake the feeling of being exposed.

* * *

Kara Kent was so excited she could hardly contain herself. She was in the living room of her 'cousin' Clark's Metropolis apartment, about to be charged with keeping an eye on things while he was 'out of town on business'. It was just the fifth time she'd been allowed to do so, and the first without Martha Kent along as a chaperone. Not, of course, that she wouldn't mind having her 'aunt' along. Martha and her husband Jonathan, Clark's adoptive parents, had taken Kara into their hearts and home without a second thought, for which Kara was and always would be grateful. Kara felt her eyes begin to mist. She blinked hard, as much to drive back unpleasant memories as tears. Even after a year on Earth, thoughts of the death of her family and the destruction of her homeworld could still reduce her to a weeping mess. Fortunately, such episodes occurred less and less often, and she was able now to remember happy times without breaking down. A smile flickered across her face. One such happy memory was the look on Clark's face when he heard her reaction to his statement that she was old enough now to come to Metropolis by herself.

"You do realize, Clark, that I'm actually twelve years older than you are, right?" Clark had goggled at her, then shook his head with a smile. "In absolute terms, maybe," he'd agreed, then hit back with a jest of his own. "And you do look very good for a lady pushing fifty."

Kara smiled to herself, then glanced at her watch. "Hey, Clark!" she called. "You'd better step on it. Lois'll be here any minute." That made her chuckle. The last time Clark had 'gone out of town on business' he'd really been headed into space with the Justice League, in his role as Superman. This time he was going to Europe for a week to cover an economic conference in Madrid, along with fellow reporter (and love interest) Lois Lane. Which meant he'd be crossing the Atlantic in a passenger jet, since Lois wasn't 'in the know' and Clark's boss had had her make the travel arrangements. And since Lois had insisted on picking Clark up at his place, instead of meeting him at the airport, Clark was frantically engaged in the unaccustomed practice of last minute packing.

"How close?" Clark called from his bedroom.

Kara's eyes narrowed as she looked through the wall with her x-ray vision. "She's just two blocks away. You have maybe two minutes 'til she rings the bell."

Clark emerged with a suit bag slung over his shoulder. "How do I look?"

Kara regarded him critically. Clark had forgone his usual suit and tie, and wore slacks and a sport coat. Kara nodded approvingly. "Tastefully stylish," she commented, and Clark grinned.

"All right then, I'm out of here." He paused. "You sure you'll..." Kara cut him off with a wave.

"The 'fridge is fully stocked, I have the emergency numbers, the money you gave me is in my purse, and nothing I can't handle will happen while you're away," she assured him. "Get going you worry wart," she commanded as she bustled him out the door.

* * *

Kim's mother had just handed her an ice cream cone, along with a sternly worded command: "When he makes his move, put this on." He, of course, was Josh Mankey. Josh had just made it to second base, and was clearly considering a try for third. Kim was puzzled that her mother wasn't upset, but then, it was only a baseball game. A phone rang. Kim looked down to see the top of third base tilt back. Ron, wearing his trademark goofy grin and an oddly familiar shirt, tie and vest combo, stuck his head up through it and held out a cordless phone.

"For you, K.P."

Taking the handset Kim spoke into it. "Hello?"

"POSSIBLE!" Mr. Barkin bellowed, "Where are your clothes?"

Stunned, Kim looked down. All she had on were a bra and panties. The whole stadium erupted in laughter. Her image appeared on the Jumbotron and the announcer's voice rang out, "Ladies and gentlemen, today's guest of honor: Kim Possible, the girl who can do anything!...Except remember to get dressed before she leaves the house!" The laughter swelled to a roar. Desperately, Kim looked for somewhere to hide. Ron, now wearing a baseball uniform, beckoned from the dugout, still holding a ringing phone. The ringing grew louder, louder, painfully louder...

Kim's eyes snapped open. The phone on her nightstand was jangling. With a sigh of relief she answered it.

"Hello?"

"This is your six o'clock wake up call," a female voice explained. "Good morning."

"Oh, right, thanks."

Kim yawned, stretched, and looked over at the other bed. Ron had either not woke up at all, or had gone right back to sleep when the phone quit ringing. She chucked a pillow at him.

"Get up Ron; it's time to go work out." She threw back her covers and got up. Ron rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.

Kim glared at him. With a sharp tug she pulled the clothes off his bed. "Ron. Get. Up. Now."

Ron threw his legs over the edge of his bed and sat up. He rubbed his sleep encrusted eyes and muttered something Kim figured she was better off not understanding. "I'm going to go get dressed," she said, jerking her thumb toward the bathroom. "Be ready when I get back." She turned and padded off. Behind her, still grumbling, Ron began to obey.

Kim emerged from the bathroom to find Ron waiting for her. He looked like he was still half asleep, leaning against the far wall, slurping coffee from a steaming mug. He looked up and said, "Blarg murphel phlerg," then pushed past her into the bathroom.

Ron had perked up considerably after a few minutes in the health club. Whether that was because the time he'd spent on the treadmill had gotten his blood flowing, or because an attractive woman was doing her warm-up stretches in front of him, Kim couldn't say. 'Probably both,' she thought with an amused grin. Her own mood had improved considerably, and only got better as she cranked up the speed on her own treadmill.

Kim and Ron were both wide awake, and drenched in sweat, by the time they turned their attention to the free weights. A hard morning workout had been slowly making itself a part of their daily routine over the past year, with a good run before school and a trip to the weight room after cheerleading practice. Ron, who had been, if not flabby, at least soft at the start of their sophomore year, had shed his incipient gut and gained some muscle mass. He'd grown too, gaining enough height that Kim was starting to have to look up at him.

'Speaking of incipient guts,' Kim said to herself, 'I'd better do some crunches, to burn off all that barbeque I ate last night.' Old Pete's Rib Shack had been as good as Ron had said, maybe even better. Ron had stuffed himself, of course, as had her father and brothers. Kim hadn't eaten as much, in terms of quantity of food consumed, but only her mother had made a real effort to limit herself. Kim had happily pigged out along with the men.

Kim ate sparingly when she and Ron joined the others for breakfast in the Continental Room. "Saving room for lunch, K.P?" Ron asked, eying her sparsely laden plate.

"That's exactly right," she grinned. While Mrs. Dr. Possible went to her conference, where Mr. Dr. Possible and the Tweebs would join her for lunch, Kim and Ron were going to hit the downtown area, see the sights, check out the Modern Art Museum, and have lunch at a deli Ron had recommended.

"That, and I'm making up for last night," she added.

Ron gave her a speculative look. "I thought that was what the extra tough workout you put me through this morning was for."

"That was to get you ready for all the bags you're going to be carrying for me," Kim declared, holding up her newly acquired debit card. "In the morning, culture. After lunch, shopping!"


	3. Live and Learn

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Ron didn't suffer as much as he feared he might. Kim's hours long shopping excursion had involved surprisingly little buying. Ron guessed there were two main reasons for that; first, Kim had a debit card, not a credit card, and so couldn't spend any more than what she had in her account. Second, the prices in the shops and boutiques they visited were a lot higher than they were back home, even for identical items. Kim's purchases at the end of the day amounted to a few tee-shirts, a couple of CD's, a bracelet and a dozen coffee cups. Not exactly a back breaking burden. True, some of the shops they'd spent their time in weren't the most interesting, from Ron's point of view (the jewelry stores being a prime example) but Kim had enjoyed herself immensely, and that made the time spent worthwhile.

Of course, the afternoon hadn't been limited to shopping, any more than the morning had been limited to sightseeing. It seemed every big building in Metropolis had a gift shop, and no tour of a famous landmark like the LexCorp Tower or the Daily Planet, not to mention STAR Labs, the Museum of Modern Art or the Metropolis Historical Society, was complete without the purchase of at least one souvenir.

Lunch had been a treat as well. They'd eaten at Shiffmann's Kosher Deli, not far, it turned out, from the Daily Planet, and had spotted Planet editor-in-chief Perry White among the patrons, along with what seemed to be several of his staffers. Ron had stuffed himself, as usual, but with greater enthusiasm. He was Jewish, of course, but his family were members of a quite liberal Reformed Congregation, and weren't strict observers of the dietary laws. That didn't change the fact that Ron loved kosher food though, and devoured it with an enthusiasm that made his Conservative grandmother weep with joy.

Ron grabbed the edge of the pool and clung to it, gasping for air. When they had returned to the hotel in the afternoon, Kim had suggested they cool off in the pool. Ron had been looking forward to an hour or so of leisurely girl watching, but Kim had other ideas. She'd challenged him to a lap race, and he had rather foolishly taken her up on it.

"Note to self," he panted, fixing Kim with an accusing glare, "Never swim laps against Kim Possible again."

Kim offered him a dimpled smile. "Nobody made you accept, Ron," she teased, pushing away from the wall to tread water. She wasn't even breathing hard.

"Whatever," Ron retorted. "If you're through working me to death, can we start having fun now?"

Kim pouted a bit. "I was having fun," she mocked. "But if you're too tired to go on, I guess you can start ogling bikini girls." Her gaze shifted, and Ron followed it to a girl in a bikini that was far less substantial than the modest two piece Kim was wearing. Ron nodded approvingly, and under ordinary circumstances would have happily stared at the girl for hours. But, there was revenge to be had, so he turned away.

"I appreciate the suggestion, K. P., but there's something more important we need to take care of." Ron's brown eyes locked on Kim's green ones. Ron had a peculiar look on his face.

"And what would that be?" she asked. Ron's lips twitched like he was fighting back a grin, and Kim's eyes started to narrow in suspicion, when a cascade of water hit her in the face.

"Water fight!" Ron cried and dove at her. He quickly dragged her under the water, then swam off. Kim came up sputtering, but laughing too, and tore off after him.

The water war ended in a cease-fire imposed by an irate hotel employee, who threatened expulsion if hostilities weren't ended immediately. Kim and Ron, still giggling like kindergarteners, repaired to the hot tub to soak away the strain of the day's exertions.

It was after seven by the time Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible and the Tweebs got back, got cleaned up, and were ready to go out for dinner. Ron lead the way, having selected a restaurant a fifteen minute walk from the hotel. As they were walking up the street, sirens began wailing. As they approached the next intersection, a police car went tearing through it. A second followed moments later, then an ambulance. More and more sirens added their voices to the growing din. At the corner Kim looked in the direction the police cars had come from. A convoy of fire engines, interspersed with police cars and ambulances, was racing towards them. Without even thinking about it, Kim pulled out her Kimmunicator.

"Wade, what's the sitch?" she demanded.

"Pretty quiet Kim. Had a few hits on the sight, but I forwarded them to Global Justice, just like you asked."

"No, I mean, what's the sitch in Metropolis, right now," Kim clarified, letting Wade see the fire trucks as they hurtled past. Wade blinked, then his fingers flew across his keyboards.

"Ah," he exclaimed. "Big fire at a gasoline refinery on the waterfront. It started maybe five minutes ago, and half the Engine Companies in town have already been called."

Kim nodded once. "Thanks, Wade. Come on, Ron!" She turned and started down the street, only to be brought up short by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Ron shaking his head.

"We're on vacation, K. P., remember?"

"But..."

"Besides, this is Metropolis. Someone else will be handling it," Ron said firmly.

As if on cue, a stiff breeze sprang up, tugging at their hair and clothes. "Look! Up in the sky!" a nearby pedestrian exclaimed. Kim felt an electric thrill run through her. She was going to see HIM in person. As she started to turn to look, someone yelled the second part of the phrase that had become so world famous that it was already a cliché. "It's a bird!"

Jim and Tim must have been caught up in the moment as well, for they cried out, "It's a plane!"

Instead of the expected sight of the awesomely muscular Man of Steel, the crowd gaped as a lithe figure in red, white and blue rocketed down the concrete and glass canyon, vanishing almost as soon as it had appeared.

"It's Super_girl_?"

Everyone stared, but at least one local retained sufficient cynicism to shake his head and mutter "Tourists," under his breath.

"What are you waiting for K. P., let's go!" Ron said excitedly. This time, Kim had to hold _him_ back. "Ron, remember what you said to me, like, thirty seconds ago?"

Ron's face fell, and Kim smiled knowingly. "I know how much you'd like to see her again, but you're right. Supergirl can handle this just fine. She doesn't need any help from us."

Ron looked down at his toes, kicked at the sidewalk, and sighed heavily.

* * *

Kara Kent collapsed on the couch in Clark's living room. It had taken two thorough scrubbings with soap and hot water to get the smell of gasoline off her, but no amount of washing would get the image of the three men who had burned to death when the fire started out of her mind. She had recovered their corpses so their families would have something to bury, plunging strait into the inferno to do so. That had been a surprisingly difficult thing to do. It was one thing to be invulnerable to ordinary fire, but quite another to _act_ like you were invulnerable. It had taken Kara longer than she expected to work up the nerve to walk into the roaring blaze, even though she knew it wouldn't hurt her.

"Clark is lucky," she said to herself. Lucky to have his whole life to get used to his powers. Unlike her, whose first taste of her new abilities had come when she lashed out in panic, and nearly killed one of the doctors who had brought her out of her cryogenic trance. Fortunately, Clark had been there to teach her to control her powers, and Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha had shown the patience of saints during the first few months she had lived with them, when she destroyed things on a regular basis by misjudging her strength.

The whistle of the tea kettle snapped Kara out of her reverie. In the kitchen she paused and stared at the pot and the stream of steam emerging from it. On a lark, she put her hand into the steam, less than an inch from the vent. A normal person would have been horribly burned in moments. Kara felt only heat, and not terribly much of that. She drew her hand back and looked at it. Nothing. Not even a hint of red. Quite unlike the time she and her sisters Kalya, Kori and Kari had been playing with matches and started a blaze that seared most of the flesh off Kara's left arm. Well, maybe not most of it, Kara reflected with a wry grin. But she had gotten third degree burns on most of it. Argoan medical technology had repaired the physical damage so well that not a trace of it remained. The psychological damage was an other matter. It had taken Kara years to get over her aversion to open flames, and even now she still felt a twinge of unease at the sight of a mere lit candle. So diving headlong into the dock fire had taken a certain amount to bravery, even for her. Kara smiled and gave herself a mental pat on the back.

Pouring herself a cup of tea, Kara returned to the living room an flicked on the TV. The chief of the Metropolis fire department appeared on the screen. "...still pouring water on hot spots, but the fire is essentially out," he said.

"Any idea what caused it?" an unseen reporter asked. The chief shook his head. "Not yet, though our preliminary investigation is leaning toward an accident." Kara switched channels. "...nd all of Metropolis is abuzz over the reappearance of Superman's female sidekick, Supergirl." Kara glared at the newscaster's image. "Again with the sidekick thing!" she muttered, and changed the channel. "Ooo! Seinfeld! He's funny!" she exclaimed to no one in particular, and leaned back to enjoy the show.

* * *

Bruno Mannheim was meeting with his top lieutenants when an underling barged into the room. "Mr. Mannheim, sir!"

Mannheim, who had been in the middle of answering a complex question, turned calmly. "Yes, Phillips?"

Duff Killigan wondered silently at Mannheim's restraint. Most men in his position, including himself, Killigan admitted, would have blown up at a mere lackey for interrupting important business. Mannheim never did, instead exhibiting a preternatural calm that more than one of his lieutenants found unnerving.

"Supergirl is back in town," Phillips exclaimed breathlessly.

Mannheim's expression became shrewd. "Really?" he said softly. He turned to one of the men seated at the table. "Tom, start Operation Double Trouble immediately. If the results are positive, go right into Operation Gravy Grabber."

"Yes, sir!" the man named Tom said, rising from his seat and hurrying from the room.

"Mr. Mannheim?"

"Yes, Duff?"

"Pardon my ignorance, but why is having Supergirl in town so significant? I mean, isn't one super powered busy-body as bad as any other?"

Mannheim merely smiled. "Not really," he explained. "We've noticed in the past that when Supergirl is in Metropolis, Super_man_ is usually absent, and while they have similar powers and abilities, Supergirl lacks Superman's experience." Mannheim paused, his expression thoughtful. "Superman has a nose for crime. He's no Batman, but he'd make a fine police detective, which is why he's such an obstacle. He's more likely to notice any new moves we might make, which is why we have to be cautious."

"Whereas Supergirl wouldn't know what she was looking at, even if it happened right in front of her?" Killigan supplied.

Mannheim nodded. "We're going to stage two simultaneous incidents that should draw superhero attention. If Superman fails to show at either of them, we'll move against our rivals to expand our power base. If Superman _is_ out of town, we should have a high probability of success."

Killigan mulled that over. It occurred to him that this was why Intergang was so successful. They were cautious, but also willing to take risks, albeit calculated ones. Since he'd come aboard Killigan had also learned that Intergang planned for as many contingencies as they could, and practiced putting their plans in action. They even had a plan for what they would do in the event of the complete destruction of Intergang, either by the police or a rival criminal cartel, and they never, ever, took things for granted.

'I could learn a lot from these people,' Killigan thought. 'It may even turn out that Kim Possible thwarting my last scheme was the best thing that ever happened to me."


	4. Killigan Strikes

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Kim pushed aside her plate and unfolded the complimentary copy of the Daily Planet that had been delivered to their room that morning. Ron was just settling back into his seat at the table they were sharing in the Continental Room, having returned from a raid on the breakfast buffet with a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, hash browns and sausage. He'd already eaten one plateful, and if he held true to form, would go back at least once more. After pouring himself another cup of coffee, Ron attacked his food, and Kim began skimming the headlines.

"Anything interesting?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Kim chided, not looking up from her reading. "The front page is all about Supergirl," she added.

"No surprise there," Ron observed, and Kim nodded.

"The main headline is 'Supergirl Battles Fire' and right under that is 'Girl of Steel returns to Metropolis'."

"Mmhm," Ron vocalized. He waved his fork in a circular gesture that said 'And?'. Kim quickly skimmed the page.

"The main story is basically a rehash of what was on the news last night," she told him. Last night, when they had been getting ready for bed, and even after they had turned in, Ron had the TV tuned in to the local news channel. He'd stayed up late, watching the coverage of the dock fire, even after Kim had drifted off to sleep. "There are some interesting side stories though," she said speculatively.

"Such as?" Ron prodded.

Kim cleared her throat. "Where is Superman?" she read aloud. "Supergirl's return to Metropolis has raised questions regarding the whereabouts of the Man of Steel. With the exception of her first and third appearances, Supergirl's presence in the city has indicated the absence of Superman." Kim paused and looked up at Ron. Ron met her gaze. "Sounds reasonable to me," he shrugged.

Kim's eyes returned to the paper. She read down a bit before she spoke again. "When asked about Superman's absence, Supergirl declined to comment, saying only that 'Metropolis will see plenty of her favorite son'." Kim read on in silence. Finally she put the paper down and looked at Ron. "I am SO glad we don't have to put up with this kind of scrutiny. I mean, having our every word and move analyzed and speculated about?" She shuddered. "I don't think I could handle that kind of attention." Ron didn't say anything, and his expression was slightly apprehensive. He was pointing with his fork at something behind her. Kim turned warily. Standing a short distance away was a slender, attractive blonde in her mid thirties. She wore a stylish suit, with a skirt instead of pants, and carried a designer purse along with a notebook computer. A plastic card that bore the Daily Planet logo hung from the left breast pocket of her jacket. With her, clearly in tow, was a teenaged boy perhaps a bit younger than Kim and Ron. He had a shock of unruly red hair and carried a camera and several film and equipment bags. Kim groaned inwardly, but managed a faint smile. The blonde returned it with a cloying sweet smile of her own.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your meal," the new arrival said apologetically.

"That's all right," Kim lied, "We were almost done." The blonde nodded. "I'm Catherine Grant, society reporter for the Daily Planet," she introduced herself, still smiling.

Kim snorted. "I've heard of you, Ms. Grant. Don't you mean 'gossip columnist'?" Kim added, more acidly than she'd intended. To her surprise, genuine warmth crept into Grant's sugary grin.

"I suppose that's a more honest way of putting it," Grant allowed. "Seriously, if this isn't a good time..."

Kim shook her head. "No, that's all right. We really were almost done." She glanced at Ron, who looked mournfully at his half full plate. Kim couldn't help smiling. "Well, I am, anyway," she corrected. "Why don't you join us?" She gestured at the small table's two other chairs. Grant and her companion complied. When they were seated Kim laced her fingers and got right to the point. "So, what can I do for you, Ms. Grant?"

"First, you can call me 'Cat' if you like," Grant said. She gestured across the table at her companion. "This, by the way, is Jimmy Olsen. He's a staff photographer with the Planet." Kim noticed that Olsen, who was kind of cute in an awkward, gangly sort of way, puffed up with obvious pride when Grant called him a staff photographer. Kim hid a smile. She suspected that a check would find Olsen listed as an intern, or perhaps by the older term 'cub reporter'.

"Second," Grant continued, "The reason I'm here is that we got a call on our news tip line that you were in town, staying at this hotel. You're something of a celebrity, and covering celebrities is my job, so here I am."

"Fair enough," Kim agreed. "So what would you like to know?"

"Let's start with the obvious," Grant began. "What brings you to Metropolis?"

"I'm on vacation," Kim replied. Grant gave her a dubious look. "Seriously," Kim confirmed. "My mom is attending a medical conference at the U of M, and she and my dad brought my brothers and I along." Grant nodded.

"And which brother is this?" she asked, indicating Ron.

"Oh no," Kim corrected, shaking her head. "My brothers Jim and Tim are twins, and only eleven years old. This is my friend Ron Stoppable."

"Boyfriend?" Grant asked coyly.

Ron choked on his food and had to struggle not to spit it out. Kim put a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles. "No," she said, chuckling. "Ron's not my boyfriend. He's...well," Kim looked at Grant, trying to explain. "Ron and I live across the street from each other, and we've know each other since, like, forever." She gave Ron a fond look. "Ron's like, well, like a..."

"We're like brothers," Ron supplied, his expression grave, his voice serious, but his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Or sisters," Kim rejoined, an impish smile on her face. "Or like brother and sister," Ron finished, and the two grinned at each other. "That, and Ron is the other half of Team Possible, of course," Kim added.

* * *

The interview ended up lasting a hour, and by the end of it, Kim was enjoying herself immensely. Cat was a much nicer person than Kim had expected, and smarter, too. She asked a lot of insightful questions, and knew how to draw answers out of people. She might be 'only' a gossip columnist, but she was a good reporter. Jimmy Olsen, though he was a bit shy at first, had joined in as well, and asked some good questions, as well as taking a couple of dozen pictures. Before the two left Cat sketched out the stories she had planned, one that would be in the regular paper the next day, and a more involved one for the Sunday edition.

"That was actually pleasant," Kim commented when the two had gone.

"I'll say," Ron agreed. "I wonder why she doesn't cover regular news?"

* * *

In the late afternoon of the next day, Kim and Ron returned to the hotel to find a message waiting for them. Or rather, for Kim.

"It's not a message, exactly," the clerk behind the front desk explained. "It's actually a package." Reaching beneath the counter he produced a small box wrapped in silver and white paper, tied up with a metallic blue ribbon. A label on the box read 'To Miss Kimberly Anne Possible, from an Admirer'. Kim and Ron shared a look.

"What did the person who delivered this look like?" she asked.

The clerk frowned thoughtfully. "A younger fellow, maybe in his twenties. Wiry, wearing bicycle shorts, shirt and helmet. A bike messenger," he finished with a shrug.

"Let's see what it is," Ron suggested. Kim removed the wrapping to reveal a felt covered jewelry box about two inches on a side. With a puzzled frown, Kim opened the lid. Nested inside the box, on a bed of black satin, was a golf ball. A golf ball that began to hiss as soon as the box was opened.

"Get down!" Kim cried. A fountain stood in the center of the hotel's lobby, and she threw the ball into it, box and all, even as she jumped over the counter and dragged the clerk to the floor. Ron dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms.

BOOM! The lobby shook as the bomb went off, and water sprayed everywhere. When the immediate danger was past, Kim rolled off the clerk. "Call 911," she commanded fiercely, then stood up to survey the damage. Fortunately, it was light. The ball bomb had been relatively small, and the water in the fountain had absorbed much of the power of the blast. Still, there were a few people down. She vaulted the desk, pausing just long enough to see that Ron was unhurt. He was already up and heading for one of the casualties.

* * *

"I'm just grateful no one was hurt," Kim said, hanging her head. She was seated in one the lobby's chairs. "That was stupid of me," she castigated herself, "opening that box like that. I should have suspected a bomb."

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Kim looked up. Lieutenant Maggie Sawyer, of the Metropolis Police Department's Special Crimes Unit, was shaking her head. "I wouldn't have thought a package that small could hold a bomb that powerful." Sawyer was a tough looking woman, thin, with a pinched face. A smoldering cigar was clenched in her teeth. She and her team had arrived hard on the heels of the first uniformed officers to reach the hotel and gone right to work examining the crime scene. Kim regarded Sawyer thoughtfully. The other woman was in her forties, with a nearly unnoticeable bosom and hair almost as short as Ron's, The first adjective that came to Kim's mind when she saw her was 'mannish'. That probably wasn't a fair description though, and Kim wondered if the way Sawyer presented herself was an act. She shrugged. That wasn't important at the moment.

What was important was that Duff Killigan had tried to kill her. Her Kimmunicator beeped.

"What have you got, Wade?" she demanded.

"I've run down every rumor and scrap of information I could find on Killigan's recent whereabouts. Everything points to Metropolis, but I'm afraid I can't give you a positive location."

"What can you give us?" Kim asked.

"I have three locations where Killigan has been sighted recently, but none of them seems to be a proper lair."

"They're a start at least," Kim said grimly. "Ron and I will check them out." She signed off, and turned to Lt. Sawyer. "I hope you don't mind us taking a look around town?" she asked.

Sawyer shook her head slowly. "Not at all, Ms. Possible, but..." The lawwoman held up one hand. "There'll be no taking the law into your own hands, understood? You find Killigan, you call us, and we'll deal with him." It wasn't a request. Kim nodded. "I understand," she acknowledged. She turned to Ron. "After dinner, you and I are going out on the town, so get your stuff ready," she commanded. Ron responded with predatory smile. "Will do, K.P."


	5. Convergence

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Kim walked into the room she shared with Ron to find that he'd already changed in to his 'mission togs' - black, rubber-soled boots, green cargo pants, long sleeved black shirt and gloves, and was going over their equipment, carefully checking each item before restowing it in their backpacks. She saw that he had laid her own clothes out on her bed.

"How'd it go?" he asked, not looking up from his work.

Kim sighed and began to unbutton her blouse. "Not well," she confessed. "Mom was totally freaked. I thought I'd never get her calmed down." Kim shrugged off her blouse and tossed it on the bed. "Dad finally made her take a Valium. I didn't even know she had those!" She unzipped her skirt and let it slide down to the floor.

"That's pretty freaked out," Ron agreed. "But I can understand it. I mean, it's not like you ever told her about all the other times people have tried to kill you, so it must have been quite a surprise."

"I suppose so," Kim allowed, kicking off her shoes and picking up her own cargo pants. "I guess I should have been more honest with her and Dad from the get go."

"Well, they would have found out sooner or later. At least you weren't hurt this time," Ron observed as he closed a backpack and set it aside.

"Tell me about it," Kim said forcefully. "She'd have lost it for sure."

"Is it safe to turn around yet?" Ron asked.

"Just a second," Kim said, hurriedly pulling on her shirt. "Okay, all set."

Ron turned and handed Kim her backpack. "There ya go, K. P., you're all set."

Kim did a quick inventory of the bag. Ron had packed it exactly the way she preferred. 'He's getting meticulous in his old age,' she thought, suppressing a grin. She took out her grapple gun and gave it a quick check. Not that she expected to find anything wrong, of course. Knowing Ron, he'd been twice as careful with her gear as he'd been with his own and, as expected, the grapple gun was in perfect order. He was watching expectantly, and Kim smiled at him. "Lucky for us we brought this stuff along," she quipped.

Ron snorted. "Luck? Pfft! Habit," he corrected, and Kim laughed. He was right. Kim had packed her mission gear without even thinking about it, and Ron had as well. Donning the pack, she jerked her head at the door. "We'll try the location in Lexington Heights first," she said, referring to one of Metropolis' outlying commercial districts.

"That's halfway across the city," Ron groused. "How are we gonna get there?"

"Easy, we'll take a taxi."

* * *

"Are you out of your mind?" Bruno Mannheim's words cut like a lash, and it was all Duff Killigan could do to keep from flinching. It would have been better if he'd been shouting, Killigan decided. Definitely better. But Mannheim, as usual, hadn't even raised his voice. 

"Nay, Mr. Mannheim," Killigan denied. "Kim Possible is m' arch foe. When I saw that she was in Metropolis, I figured she was here for me, so I took steps to eliminate her."

"By 'figured' of course, you mean 'assumed'," Mannheim corrected. "And thanks to your clumsy, poorly thought out termination plan, whatever Kim Possible was doing here before, now she _will_ be after you."

"Aye, sir."

"Duff, Intergang has two basic rules that all of its members are required to know and live by. I thought I'd made them clear to you, but in case I didn't, I'll repeat them. The rules are: one, never act without a carefully thought out plan, and two, never, ever draw attention to yourself or the organization." Mannheim shook his head slightly. "If you can't internalize those concepts Duff, well, I'm afraid I'll have to let you go."

It took all of Killigan's willpower to keep from trembling. For lackeys and underlings, dismissal from Intergang usually came with an invitation to leave town by a specific date. For lieutenants like Killigan, who knew enough about Intergang's activities and operations to be serious security risks, dismissal was always fatal.

Killigan straightened. "I understand, Mr. Mannheim."

Killigan wasn't absolutely sure, but he thought Mannheim was surprised by his calm reaction. The dark haired man sat back in is expensive leather chair and studied the Scotsman from beneath thick, bushy eyebrows. At length he spoke.

"All right. We'll chalk this up to a mistake. But Duff, I want you to be absolutely clear on this: this is the only second chance you're going to get. Do you understand that?"

"Aye, Mr. Mannheim. No more screw ups."

"Good. Now, as for dealing with the present situation: you're going to lay low for a few weeks. You'll return to your quarters and stay there, while we lay down a smoke screen for Ms. Possible and the police. Then we'll arrange for you to be seen in another part of the country. That should draw Ms. Possible away from Metropolis."

"We could also arrange for the 'word on the street' to be that someone else attacked Possible, using Killigan's methods, to hide their own identity." The suggestion was made by Mannheim's deputy, a man Killigan knew only as Gillespie, who had been standing discreetly to one side. Mannheim nodded.

"Good idea, Gillespie. Get Duff undercover, and make the rest of it happen."

Gillespie nodded once and led Killigan from the room.

* * *

Kim handed the cab driver a twenty and smiled. "Thanks for the ride Eddie, keep the change." 

Edward Perkins smiled back, shiny white teeth contrasting starkly with his ebony skin. "No problem, Kim, I've been a fan of yours for years." Ron chuckled quietly as Kim blushed a little. Even after everything she'd done, Kim still had trouble believing that she had fans, even after she'd seen the web sites devoted to her. "Would you like me to wait?" Eddie inquired, hopefully, Ron thought. Kim thought about that for a moment, eying the towering high rise that was Team Possible's first objective of the evening. She shook her head.

"Nah. We don't really know how long we'll be, but thanks for offering, Eddie."

Eddie nodded, a little disappointedly, though whether that was because he wouldn't be able to hang around and see what happened, or because of the lost revenue, Ron couldn't tell. Then the cabbie brightened. "Well," he said, producing an eight by ten glossy photograph of Kim, "Can I get your autograph for my daughter? She'd kill me if I didn't get it."

* * *

"Ok," Wade explained. "Killigan, or someone enough like him to be his twin, has been seen going into the Lafferty Building eight times in the last few months."

"Which floor?" Kim asked.

"The forty-first."

"Any details?" Ron put in.

"The Lafferty Building is owned by Lafferty Systems, Incorporated, and the forty-first and forty-second floors are leased by Balmoral Recovery Technologies. Both of them are suspected Intergang front companies."

"Intergang?" Kim asked, surprise coloring her voice. Intergang was one of the biggest organized crime outfits on the East Coast, second only, perhaps, to the Gotti Family of New York.

"Intergang," Wade repeated with a nod. "Balmoral is a new company, only a few months old, and the name fits Killigan's MO."

"Huh?" Ron asked, frowning in confusion. "That name fits how?"

Wade sighed. "Balmoral is the name of an estate owned by the British Royal family. It's in Scotland."

"Ah!"

"Access?" Kim inquired.

"The floors Balmoral rents are accessible only by someone with a special key to the elevators, passenger and freight, otherwise they won't stop there. Also, I ran across a rumor..." Wade paused, frowned, and went on, "And it's only a rumor, understand," he emphasized, "that there is a second, private freight elevator that serves only those floors, and leads to a private area of the parking garage."

"Sounds a trifle suspicious," Kim smiled. "I suppose that if Intergang owns the building, they own the guys at the security desk too?" she asked. From where she and Ron stood they could see into the building's lobby. Anyone wanting to use the elevators would have to pass the security desk, which was crewed by two men.

"You suppose correctly," Wade confirmed.

"Well," Kim said, eying the side of the building, "I guess we'll have to take the long way. Ron, break out your climbing gear."

* * *

Ron pressed the button that released the suction cup in his right hand and moved it up a couple of feet. After testing its grip, he pulled himself up and repeated the process with his left hand. He paused briefly to catch his breath and looked down. That was a mistake he regretted instantly. He and Kim were at or near the thirtieth floor, more than three hundred feet above street level, and the only things keeping them from falling to their deaths were the suction cups they carried in each hand and wore at each knee. The glass shell of the building offered few hand holds, and fewer places to put anchor ropes. Not that they were using any. Ropes, Kim had said, would attract too much attention, so they weren't an option. "Don't look down," he muttered to himself. He loosened the right suction cup again, moved it up, and brought it down on the upper of a red leather boot. Ron stopped again while his brain tried to figure out what a boot was doing stuck to the side of a building thirty floors off the ground. It was so odd that it left him bemused. It occurred to him that the boot was a left one, and he glanced to his own left in search of its right counterpart. Sure enough, a second red leather boot was about two feet away, in line with the other. Ron's eyes rose, past red laces, to the tops of the boots. Legs emerged from them. Shapely legs, he noted absently, that disappeared beneath the hem of a very short blue miniskirt. The skirt itself, flanked by white-gloved hands, gave way to a flat, muscular stomach, then a white cropped tee-shirt emblazoned with a stylized red 'S' and filled with a very nice pair of breasts. Finally he found himself staring into bright blue eyes. Long, platinum blonde hair hung down past a face that was trying hard not to smile. 

"Something wrong with the elevator?" Kara asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Kara!" Ron exclaimed. She wagged a finger at him.

"Supergirl when in uniform, please," she corrected, smiling. "Hello Ron, hello Kim," she added, glancing between the two.

"Hello, Supergirl," Kim returned with a smile of her own.

"So," Kara said, her voice and expression turning serious. "I suppose you have a good reason why you're climbing the outside of a skyscraper in Metropolis at night?"

"We do, actually," Kim answered. "We think Duff Killigan has a lair in this building."

"Killigan? I hadn't heard that he was in town."

"I hadn't either," Kim said dryly, "Until he tried to kill us today."

"Kill you!" Kara exclaimed. "When? Where?"

"At our hotel, a few hours ago. He sent us a bomb."

"How did I miss that?" Kara said, frowning in wonder. She shook her head. "Never mind." She pitched forward like a diver, doing a mid air twist and stopping behind Kim and Ron. She held out her arms. "Grab hold," she commanded. Kim and Ron complied. "Which floor?"

"Forty-first, please," Kim grinned.

Kara grinned right back. "Express elevator, going up."


	6. Risk and Reward

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

It must have been a wonderful thing, being able to fly. The thought echoed in Kim's mind as Kara lifted her and Ron up the side of the Lafferty Building. No ropes, no jet packs, just yourself, free to move in any direction, independent of machines. Kim sighed, prompting a glance from Kara.

"Something the matter, Kim?"

Kim shook her head slightly and favored her platinum blonde friend with a small smile. "Just a little frustration at having our vacation interrupted," she lied. Kara nodded knowingly, and Kim turned her attention to the building. She hated being jealous of anyone, because, she reminded herself, jealousy was an emotion for insecure people, which she definitely wasn't.

Kara stopped her assent and frowned. "Is this the right floor?" she asked. Kim frowned as well. She'd been counting the floors as she and Ron climbed, but realized that she'd lost count after Kara showed up.

Kim gave herself a mental kick and shook her head. "I'm not sure," she confessed. "I kind of lost track."

When Kara turned to him, Ron only shrugged. "I was letting K. P. keep track of that."

"Oh well," Kara grinned, letting herself and her charges drift back from the building. Kim started counting down from their current level, and was somewhat surprised that Kara started counting from the ground up. When she finished Kara turned to Kim and said, "One more to go?"

"That's what I get, too," Kim agreed.

"Right then," Kara said firmly, moving up and forward.

The sight that presented itself to the trio was perfectly ordinary. An office, sparsely furnished, presently unoccupied, but with the lights on. The room to the left was another office, that to the right a storage room for files. Both were dark. As she looked through the window, Kim began to frown. There was something about the scene that was...wrong, somehow.

"Is it just me, or is there something weird about that office?" Ron asked quietly.

"Definitely something weird," Kara said slowly, tilting her head to one side.

"It looks..." Kim paused, groping for an adjective. "Flat," she finished in a puzzled voice.

Kara moved in closer, rising a little as she did so. "It is flat!" she exclaimed. "Look. Someone took cardboard cutouts of office furniture and put them up to make a forced perspective set. It's only a few feet deep!"

As their viewpoint shifted Kim could see the sticks holding up the two dimensional desk and chair. Behind it all was a picture of a generic office wall, blown up to life size. A quick check showed that every window on the forty-first floor was backed by a similar artificial scene.

"From a distance, with only a casual glance, you'd never know this wasn't real," Ron proclaimed.

"I'll bet most people never look twice at it," Kara agreed.

"Someone went to a lot of effort to do all this," Kim reasoned, "and it must have been done to hide what's really going on here." She gave Ron and Kara a speculative look. "I wonder what's behind it?"

"I'll have a look," Kara offered. She turned her eyes toward the building. Kim watched expectantly, and was a little disappointed that there were no obvious signs of Kara using her x-ray vision, though that was almost certainly what she was doing.

Kara scowled. "Marijuana. Thousands of plants. It's a damned greenhouse."

"What about the forty-second floor?" Kim asked. Kara's eyes flashed upward.

"That too."

"I guess we know what Killigan is doing in Metropolis," Kim said quietly.

"Growing the wacky tobaccy," Ron agreed lightly. He frowned. "Doesn't explain why he tried to kill us, though."

"I have a feeing we'll find the answer to that question inside," Kim said. She glanced at Kara.

"Roof?" Kara asked.

"Please and thank you," Kim grinned.

The access door was set in a square concrete shed that stood higher than the rest of the roof. Aside from the stairwell, it appeared to house the ventilation system and the elevators as well. The door was locked, of course.

"Allow me," Kara said, stepping forward.

"Supergirl, wait," Kim said, raising a hand. Kara paused. "Alarm," Kim explained.

"I didn't even look," Kara admitted with a slight blush.

"Ron, if you would?" Kim invited.

Ron quickly examined the door and its frame. "Just a proximity sensor," he declared. "Easy money." From a pouch on his belt he produced a small piece of sheet metal backed with two-faced tape. Peeling off the protective backing, Ron eased the piece into the gap between the door and the frame header. When it was securely in place over the sensor he stepped back with a grin.

"All yours," he proclaimed grandly, gesturing at Kara, who smiled and stepped forward. She took hold of the handle, paused , and looked thoughtfully at the door.

"What's the matter?" Kim asked anxiously.

"Nothing," Kara said absently, "I was just thinking." She turned and smiled again. "Since we're being subtle and all..." She took hold of the latch again and gave it a sudden, sharp twist. There was a muffled snapping sound as the lock broke. Kara opened the door easily. "There you go," she grinned. "Nice and quiet."

They went down to the forty-first floor, bypassing the forty-second because Kara said it was deserted.

"How many are we up against?" Kim asked, putting her hand on the door's knob.

"Six," Kara told her.

"Killigan?"

Kara shook her head. "Two of them are in a little room that has shielded walls. I can't see them well enough to make out any details."

"I guess we'll just have to hope for the best," Kim shrugged. She turned the knob and pulled. The door didn't budge. "What the..?" She tried again, frowning at the door. "It's a fire exit, hinged on this side, and it isn't locked," she muttered. "So why won't it open?"

"Welded shut from the inside," Kara grimaced. "Not very smart."

"How so?" Ron asked.

"Cuts off an avenue of escape, if there was a fire." Ron wasn't sure, but he thought Kara shivered a bit.

"I guess the time for subtlety is over," Kim conceded, stepping aside. "Supergirl?"

"I'm going to push it down to the floor," Kara warned them. "Go right over top of me." Kim and Ron nodded.

"We'll take the left, you get the right," Kim suggested. Kara nodded.

"Here we go."

One shriek of tearing metal later the door was down and Kim and Ron jumped into the indoor garden. Purple light from hundreds of grow lamps gave the whole scene an eerie cast. Benches covered with flower pots were neatly arrayed in all directions. The crop must have been young, because the plants were only a foot or so tall, but at least that made it easy to see the whole floor. Square concrete load bearing columns were the only other obstructions that Kim could see. She also saw three men in coveralls, who were staring at her in absolute shock. Snarling, she charged them. They scattered. One of the men seized a flower pot and threw it at her. Kim ducked and launched herself into a flying kick that hit her enemy in the chest. He careened backward, gasping for air. Kim closed and swung her fist in a vicious haymaker. Shafts of pain lanced up her arm as her knuckles crashed into the man's jaw, but he went glassy eyed and slumped to the floor.

Shaking her hand, she searched for a new target. Ron was working on two guys, one from Kim's original three, the other a stranger. She felt a presence behind her and whirled. The third man had a pistol leveled at her head from less than ten feet away.

The shot thundered in the cavernous greenhouse. Kim reeled backward, falling into a row of pots, clutching at her face.

After a moment she realized that, while her face stung from the muzzle blast, and her ears rang, she wasn't dead. She opened her eyes and saw why. A slender arm, tipped by a white gloved hand, was between her and the gunman. The hand opened, and Kim caught a flash of silver as the bullet that should have killed her fell to the floor.

"It isn't nice to point guns at other people," Kara said flatly. The gunman stood numbly while she reached out and, with her thumb and forefinger, pinched the pistol's barrel shut.

"That's better," she observed smugly. The gunman sagged, and let the pistol slip from his hand.

"Fine, you win," he muttered dolefully.

"That's it?" Kim asked, standing up and brushing herself off. "You're giving up just like that?"

The man shot her an incredulous look. "Are you an idiot or something?" he asked, bitter sarcasm coloring his words. "It's Supergirl, for Christ's sake. We got zero chance against her, so why waste the time?"

Kim glanced around. The two men Ron had been fighting were meekly allowing him to handcuff them. Two more were sitting near the stairwell door, trussed up like Christmas turkeys. Kim turned to Kara, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

"You could have taken them all by yourself, couldn't you," Kim said softly. Kara flushed and looked away.

"Well, yeah," she admitted. She turned back. "You could have too, though," she declared defensively.

"Maybe," Kim allowed. "These guys are smarter than most of the goons I fight. At least they know when to give up," she added, grinning slightly. "Don't mind me," she told Kara with an apologetic smile. "I'm just used to being the rescuer, not the rescuee." Kara grinned in obvious relief. "And thank you, Supergirl, for saving my life."

"No big," Kara declaimed modestly.

The shielding on the small room turned out to be by accident rather than design. Apparently it had been built as a strong room for storing valuables, and when the floor had been converted to a greenhouse, the vault was turned into an office. Duff Killigan's office, to be exact, complete with files and a networked computer. While Wade worked on cracking the computer's security, Kim and Kara rifled through Killigan's paper files. Ron, poking through the desk, found a piece of paper taped to the bottom of a drawer. It had two things written on it: 'dUfFkillIGan' and 'A1eF43VgH7'. Ron held the piece up. "User name and password?" he asked, grinning smugly.

That was exactly what they were. Once inside Intergang's network, Wade had found reams of valuable information, mostly limited to Intergang's drug operations, and some other tidbits that were deeply disturbing. When Lieutenant Sawyer arrived with her Special Crimes Unit to take charge of the situation, Kim had handed her two slips of paper. One was a list of the locations of all of Intergang's marijuana farms in the metro area, including independent contractors. The other had the names of twenty-four members of the Metropolis Police Department who were also Intergang moles. Sawyer had gone white as she read down the list, not least because one of the names belonged to a member of her own team, a man she had hand picked in the belief that he was utterly loyal and absolutely trustworthy.

"Twenty-four cops," Sawyer read tonelessly. "Six firefighters. Two in the Mayor's Office. Four in the DA's Office. Five on the Riker's Island staff. Two on the parole board!" Her voice rose a bit. Sawyer shook her head a crumpled the list. "No wonder we could never get ahead of them," she said bitterly. "They knew our plans as soon as we did."

"They used to," Kim allowed, trying to console the older woman. "Now we have the inside track. What say we use it?"

"I'm game," Kara said cheerfully.

"Count me in," Ron added enthusiastically.

Sawyer looked up. If she was feeling any grief, it didn't show. Anger and determination were the only emotions her face displayed. "Hell yes!" she snarled. "I'm going to shove this list so far up Bruno Mannheim's ass, it'll come out his mouth." She turned to her men. "Saddle up," she snapped. "We've got work to do."


	7. Duff Killigan Must Die!

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Bruno Mannheim was enjoying an early breakfast with his latest squeeze, a willowy brunette named Samantha, whose most endearing quality was a distinct lack of mental acuity. He grunted absently. She wasn't anything more than a receptacle for his physical needs anyway, and was pleasantly stupid and oblivious. True, Mannheim usually found such people annoying, and weeded them out of Intergang's ranks with relish, but he was willing to make exceptions in some cases. Not that he hadn't been careful when he'd selected her, of course. If he had a weakness, it was his preference for unintelligent women. Or more accurately, that his preference for them was well known. The police had tried at least once to get an undercover agent into his inner circle, using a female officer who had played the role of a brainless bimbo almost perfectly. Mannheim smiled thinly. Almost perfectly. It was too bad, in a way. She'd actually been extremely intelligent. Mannheim had been impressed, both by her acting talents, and by her nerve and integrity. She'd have made a fine lieutenant. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, she'd refused his offer to join the organization. Someday, he resolved, he would have to let her relatives know where they could find her body. Someday.

Samantha, on the other hand, was just as stupid as she seemed to be. Her background had been carefully checked, and Mannheim had had her watched around the clock for the slightest sign that she was feigning her simple-mindedness. Even now, six months into her stint as concubine, he kept an eye on her, but he was fairly certain she was safe. At the moment, she was prattling on about shoes, having apparently forgotten that the breakfast she'd been so impatient for was getting cold in front of her.

"Eat your breakfast," he commanded.

"Ok," Samantha said brightly and started shoveling food into her mouth. Mannheim rolled his eyes. She'd forgotten her table manners again, too.

Hurried footsteps brought his head around. Gillespie was approaching the table. He was ashen, and his hands were trembling. Something was obviously wrong.

"Samantha, go take a shower," Mannheim ordered brusquely.

"Ok," she answered in that same bright voice, pushing away from the table and heading upstairs. Mannheim turned to Gillespie.

"What is it?"

"Disaster, sir," Gillespie declared. "The police just raided our marijuana farms."

"How many?" Mannheim demanded.

"All of them," Gillespie said.

"All of them!" Mannheim repeated incredulously. Gillespie nodded.

"Why didn't we get word of this in advance? The cops couldn't stage an operation that large without our people on the inside letting us know it was coming."

"They got our moles, too," Gillespie stammered. "I can't reach any of them, anywhere. That can only mean one thing."

Mannheim sat back, a shocked look on his face. "How in the hell..." he mumbled, while his mind tried to reason out how such a thing could possibly have happened.

"Do we know anything at all?" he demanded suddenly. Gillespie flinched, and Mannheim guessed more bad news was coming. He also guessed that Gillespie thought himself at fault to some degree.

"How bad is it?" he asked his deputy, trying to make himself sound reassuring.

Gillespie seemed to relax a bit, and began his tale.

"Someone broke into our computer network last night. Whoever it was must have gotten the locations of the farms and the names of our informants from our own files."

"And how did this 'intruder' get past our security?"

"The computer people couldn't figure that out at first. There weren't any of the usual signs of attack. The only odd thing was some activity at the computer terminal at the Lexington Height farm."

"One of the night crew messing around?" A peculiar feeling of dread was creeping into Mannheim's gut.

Gillespie shook his head. "Kim Possible and her partner turned up there around ten o'clock."

"Looking for Killigan, no doubt," Mannheim commented.

"Yes, sir. She then forced entry to the forty-first floor and -"

"How?" Mannheim interrupted. "The physical security should have been enough to keep her out, at least long enough for our people to have taken proper measures." That was standing Intergang policy. If you knew the cops were on their way, you got out, destroying as much evidence as you could in the process.

Gillespie swallowed and pulled at the collar of his shirt. "Yes, but, ah, well...Supergirl was with her."

Mannheim nodded. The people who tended the farms were chosen for skills other than martial ones, and the crew at the Lafferty Building was no exception. They _might _have been able to handle Possible and her cohort, but there was no way in hell they could handle Supergirl. Even if they'd had the training and the intestinal fortitude, they lacked the right equipment for that task. They'd likely been taken by surprise and overwhelmed before they could do anything. That didn't explain how the network had been compromised, though. Mannheim certain of that. How had the head of their data department put it again?

'Every password has ten slots, if you will, and each slot can be filled with letters or the digits 0 through 9, the letters being case sensitive. That means, Mr. Mannheim, that an upper case L would be correct, but a lower case l would not. That in turn means that for each slot there are sixty-two possible characters, giving you a total number of combination equal to ten to the sixty-fourth power.'

'That's a big number,' Mannheim had said. 's big it doesn't mean anything to me.'

'Let me put it this way. If you were able to try a billion, and that's billion with a b, passwords a second, and you started right now, by the time the universe collapsed in on itself forty billion years from now, you would have tried less than one percent of the total possible passwords. A lot less.' That had been impressive. Given the fact that there had been no successful unauthorized entries into Intergang's network since they'd gone to the new system, he was willing to bet the man hadn't been exaggerating.

"So how did they do it?" Mannheim asked.

"According to the logs, at 10:17 p.m. Duff Killigan logged onto the network from that location," Gillespie said, and Mannheim felt the beginnings of realization. "Since Killigan was definitely at his quarters at the time," Gillespie went on, stammering, "that can only mean that -"

"The idiot wrote down his password!" Mannheim snarled. Mannheim was a powerful man, physically as well as figuratively. His right hand balled into a massive fist, which crashed down on the table with such force that the top cracked, sending china and silverware cascading to the floor. Mannheim didn't give the expensive mess a first glance, let alone a second. Instead he took a deep breath, held it in, then exhaled slowly. When he was done, he was in control again. Still angry, to be sure, but in control. He clasped is hands behind his back and looked a Gillespie.

"Omega the entire drug division. All of it." Time to cut their losses. There was enough overlap of personnel in the various units of the drug division that the police would find out about the other units from the people they had already captured. Hopefully it would be enough to save them, but if not...

"And tell the necessary people to get ready in case we have to go to the Armageddon Contingency."

Gillespie nodded and started to turn away when Mannheim spoke again.

"Have Duff Killigan killed. Immediately. Nobody costs me half a billion dollars and gets away with it. Nobody."

* * *

Duff Killigan was at breakfast as well, on the back porch of the house Mannheim had given him. He was reading the paper and enjoying the morning air. That was one of the best things about the place, he had decided. The house was on a large estate in one of Metropolis' ritzier suburbs. It was so thinly populated that it seemed more like country than city, all the more so because it was backed by one of the city's larger rivers. 

One of the men detailed to keep him under wraps, a fellow named Stephens, was standing nearby, watchful as always. His cell phone rang. Killigan noticed Stephens stiffen, and heard him ask for a repetition of what he had just been told. Stephens switched his cell phone from his right hand to his left. Killigan felt a surge of apprehension that got stronger when Stephens reached into his jacket. That was what saved Killigan. By the time Stephens had drawn his pistol and started turning toward Killigan, the latter had brought his arm up and triggered the wrist mounted dart launcher he had taken to wearing. The dart caught Stephens in the throat, and its fast acting paralytic agent put Stephens down in seconds. Two more darts did for the other bodyguards on the porch before they could try their hands at being assassins.

Killigan sprinted toward the horse barn near the river. Reaching it he ducked inside and bolted the door behind him. Obviously Bruno Mannheim had changed his mind, and decided Killigan was a liability that needed to be disposed of. As if in confirmation, Gillespie's voice crackled over the intercom, part of the system that served all Intergang facilities.

"Duff Killigan is to be terminated immediately," Gillespie intoned. "The standard reward will be paid to whoever bags him."

"Great," Killigan swore. A million dollar price on his head was going to complicate things. Every two-bit thug in town would be coming after him. He'd have to take severe measures to discourage pursuit.

"Ah well, t'was fun while it lasted." Fortunately he was prepared for this contingency, and took a moment to savor the irony that he had Mannheim to thank for that. Killigan crossed to a control panel with four red buttons on it and pressed one. Panels opened in the barn's walls on the second story. Turbine engines howled to life, and fifty armed drones roared off their launch rails to speed toward the downtown area. They'd wreak enough havoc to keep five Supermen busy, let alone one Supergirl. Long enough for him to get clear at least. He hoped. He pushed a second button. The house exploded. Killigan felt a twinge of regret about the staff. He'd genuinely liked most of them, but this was war, and sacrifices had to be made. The third button set the roof of the barn to sliding open. Killigan pressed the fourth button, and moved to make his final escape.

The men who had been guarding the perimeter of the estate were heading toward the barn as fast as they could run. As they approached, a small airship with a tartan patterned gas bag rose from inside the barn. The men opened fire, but their pistols were unable to inflict any obvious damage before the dirigible climbed out of range.


	8. All Hell Breaks Loose!

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

_Triaxx2:_ _Good pun! As to why Duff blew the house up: the main reason was because that was the quickest and easiest way of eliminating any threat from that direction, since some of the house's staff were armed. A lesser consideration is that an explosion in an upscale neighborhood would create a diversion. Also Duff, like many villains, tends to overdo things anyway._

Maggie Sawyer allowed a tiny smile of satisfaction to touch her lips as she surveyed the scene before her. Armed with the information Kim Possible had provided, Sawyer had obtained search warrants for thirty-two locations in and around Metropolis. At dawn strike teams from the police and sheriff's departments, backed up by state troopers and federal drug agents, had swooped down on Intergang's marijuana farms. Discretely arresting everyone on the list of moles had allowed the subsequent raids to achieve complete surprise. Resistance had been minimal, with most of the people at each farm surrendering without a fight. Only here had there been any serious trouble. Possible's tech friend, in the course of sifting through that data he'd obtained from Intergang's computer network, had discovered that one of the farms was shipping out its most recent harvest this very morning. He had also discovered that extra security was going to be on hand, in the form of an Intergang Enforcement Squad backed up by an unnamed metahuman.

Sawyer had decided to take personal command of the raid on that farm. In addition to the thirty regular officers detailed to it, she'd added a half dozen of her best SCU members. Kim Possible and her partner had insisted on coming along as well. Team Possible's reputation such that Sawyer hadn't hesitated, despite their youth. She reckoned they were at least as good as any of her own team. And of course, there was Supergirl. The raw power the Girl of Steel brought to the table was a great comfort, but paradoxically, Supergirl was the one member of the raid Sawyer had hesitated at including. What little Sawyer knew about Supergirl suggested that she was impulsive, cocky and headstrong - all bad qualities for a team player. She had assented reluctantly, and had asked Supergirl not to show herself unless and until the 'unknown metahuman' made his appearance. To Sawyer's surprise Supergirl had agreed, hadn't even voiced an argument. And she'd done good service, too, in her supporting role, scanning the farm, pinpointing the Intergang personnel and detailing their numbers and equipment. The only thing she hadn't been able to do was locate the metahuman.

"So either he's right out in plain sight, and I just don't recognize him," she'd explained, "Or else he's really well hidden."

"Wonderful," Sawyer had grumbled. "I hate unknown quantities."

They hadn't been able to wait, though, so they stormed in anyway. The Enforcement Squad had fought, hard and well, to try and buy the others a chance at escape. It hadn't worked. They were too badly outnumbered, and the ultimate outcome quickly became apparent. That was when the metahuman had showed _her_ hand.

Sawyer's mouth puckered in distaste. Leslie Philips, AKA Livewire. The shock jock turned supervillainess had gone through Sawyer's team like a scythe through wheat. She hadn't killed any of them, thank God, but she was more than a match for the SCU. Even for Supergirl. The teenager had charged into the fight with all the arrogant cockiness Sawyer had feared. And Livewire had lit her up like the Fourth of July. The blast hadn't done any permanent harm but it had apparently hurt like hell, if Supergirl's scream of pain had been any indication. Livewire calmly announced that that had been 'just a warm-up' and then hit Supergirl again. And again, while police and criminals alike cowered and held their hands over their ears as an endless thunderclap roared around them.

Supergirl had come out on top, barely, and only by managing to repeat Superman's trick of shorting Willis to ground, then clapping the stunned woman into the special containment vessel the SCU had brought along before she could recover. Now Supergirl was leaning against the hood of a police car, holding a steaming cup of coffee and eyeing the two aspirin a paramedic had just handed her. She didn't look cocky any more.

Kara sighed, then tossed the pills into her mouth, swallowed, and chased them with a gulp of coffee.

"Those'll work for you?" Kim asked from where she sat, next to Ron.

Kara looked at her. "Sure, why wouldn't they?"

"The whole invulnerability thing?" Kim motioned.

"Oh, that," Kara said absently. "Somehow it knows when it needs to kick in, and when it doesn't. I can't explain it."

"Weird," Kim agreed. Then she frowned. Kara looked down. Patting Ron on the arm she stood up. "What's bothering you?"

"I don't like to lose. I never have, and it always puts me in a funk," Kara explained.

"But you won," Kim protested.

"I got lucky." Kara inhaled deeply and breathed out forcefully. "She was going to kill me," she went on turning to look at Livewire, who sat sulking in the containment vessel while she waited to be moved to the special holding center on Riker's Island.

"Look on the bright side," Kim persisted. "You didn't panic, you kept your head, and when an opportunity presented itself, you took her down."

"That's right," Ron chimed in, and Kara smiled at him. "Thanks guys, and don't mind my mood. They never last very long. I'll be fine in a few minutes." Her eyes flicked to Ron's arm.

"Looks like the doc did a good job when he sewed that up," she commented. "How's it feel?"

Ron glanced at the bandage encircling his upper left arm. Early in the raid he'd been grazed by a bullet. It had barely brushed him, but as it had the supersonic projectile had torn back a flap of skin. Kim had been freaked when she saw his bloodied arm, but Kara hadn't been. It was strictly a superficial wound, messy and painful, but it looked a lot worse than it actually was.

"It stings a bit," he admitted, flexing his arm, "And I'm guessing it'll hurt like heck when the local wears off, but I'll live."

Kim put her arm around his shoulders and laid her other hand on his chest.

"Never, ever, get shot again Ron," she commanded firmly.

"Next time I'll have 'em shoot me in the head. That way I won't get hurt," he joked, grinning goofily.

Kim poked him

"Not funny!" Kim said sharply, and Ron started. His expression became serious.

"As a wise man once said, 'You can wear a flak jacket, two helmets, and armor underwear, but when your time is up, your time is up.' So there's no sense worrying about it," he said, fixing her with a cool stare. Kim wilted.

"I know," she admitted, laying her head on his shoulder. "I just don't want to lose my best friend." He put his good arm around her waist and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"No big, K. P., I knew what you meant," he said lightly, then looked up at Kara and gave her a 'see what I have to put up with' look. Kara had to put a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. She walked over to Lieutenant Sawyer, who was regarding the two with a speculative gaze.

"I thought they were just friends," the older woman observed in a low voice.

"That's what they tell me," Kara said in a quiet, yet cheerful voice, "but I-"

"Lieutenant Sawyer!" a deputy called from the radio van.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice suddenly fully professional.

"There's been an explosion in Edgewood Heights, flying robots are attacking the downtown, and Duff Killigan's airship has been sighted over the city!" he exclaimed.

Kara's head snapped around. Once glance with telescopic vision was enough to confirm the report.

"I got the robots," she announced, then leapt up and forward and vanished like a shot from a gun.

"And I'll get Killigan," Kim added grimly. "Ron, my flying pack!" The two hurried to the car they'd ridden in. Ron took a large item from the trunk and helped Kim put it on, then began shouldering on his own.

"What are you doing?" Kim demanded.

"Getting ready," Ron replied, looking a bit puzzled.

"You aren't coming," Kim stated flatly.

"Why not?"

"Ron, your arm!" Kim snapped.

"It's just a scratch," Ron snapped back. "I've been hurt worse, and so have you."

Kim bit off a reply. He was right, and this was no time to start worrying over him like a mother hen. He was a big boy, and could take care of himself. She hoped.

"Fine," she relented, taking the control grips in her hands and pushing a button to deploy the wings and start the engine. Ron followed suit. The packs were the latest generation. Empty, they weighed two thirds as much as the ones Ron and Kara had used in the Pacific the year before. Fully loaded they weighed a trifle more, putting the entire difference into more fuel, enough to triple their endurance. She hoped it would be enough.

"Be careful you two," Lieutenant Sawyer cautioned, shouting to make herself heard over the engines.

Kim cinched the strap on her helmet.

"We always are," she shouted back, then, "Come on Ron." As Sawyer stepped back, Kim fire walled the throttle and went roaring straight up. She didn't even have to look back to know Ron was hot on her heels.

Lieutenant Sawyer turned to the lieutenant from the sheriffs department who was her tactical deputy.

"Take over here and tidy up; I'm going back to town." Without acknowledging his nod she jumped in a car and sped off. Whatever was happing, she hoped Supergirl and Team Possible would be able to handle it.


	9. The Battle of Metropolis

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Kara screamed into downtown Metropolis at just under Mach one. She could have gone a lot faster, but there was the little matter of the effect supersonic shockwaves would have on the city's glass shelled skyscrapers. In her mind's eye she could see windows shattering as she hurtled past, sending a lethal crystalline rain toward the streets below.

'Stay subsonic, girl,' she told herself. She spied a robot ahead. It was moving fast, spraying short bursts of grenade and machine gun fire as it went. In its wake was a trail of burning vehicles and wounded (or dead) people. The robot took aim at a woman with a baby carriage. Kara zipped into the line of fire. The robot turned away and fired into a crowd waiting at a bus stop. Kara swore. Whoever had built the robots must have realized that their weapons would be no match for her, or rather, Superman, and had programmed them to not waste the effort. Heat vision lanced out. The robot burst into flames and fell to the street.

Kara looked around. Sufficiently dense or thick matter, whatever the kind, blocked her x-ray vision. The cityscape was a bewildering array of steel structural beams and rebar, and at street level, cars, trucks and buses. The drones were impossible to make out against that kind of background. Super hearing wasn't much good either. Engine noise and weapons fire echoed and reechoed in the city's canyons, making it difficult to tell what direction a sound was coming from. A robot rounded a corner ahead and made to fly past her. She clotheslined it, and it crumpled against her arm like a water balloon against a steel post. This wasn't going to be easy. Setting her jaw, Kara went hunting.

* * *

"There he is!" Ron cried, pointing. Kim looked in the indicated direction, saw the dirigible with its familiar tartan envelope, and nodded. Three armed helicopters in Metropolis Police Department livery were closing from behind, and Kim saw the twinkle of muzzle flashes as they spat automatic weapons fire at it. The airship spat back. One of the choppers turned away, trailing smoke. A second blossomed into yellow flame and plummeted earthward. The third darted past, pivoting as it did so, raking the gas bag and gondola before it too was blotted out of the sky. 

Kim snarled, then noticed a fourth aircraft approaching, a hovercraft of some sort, with a lift fan at each corner. It was packed with men in familiar uniforms.

Intergang. Coming to Killigan's aid, no doubt. Well, she'd just have to show...

She blinked as the Intergang vehicle opened fire on Killigan's airship, and Killigan fired back. What the..?

Not sure what was going on, but determined to snare Killigan for herself, Kim gestured for Ron to follow and banked toward the Intergang hovercraft. She drew her grapple gun and gestured for Ron to follow suit. "Aim for the lift fans," she radioed. He nodded. Kim took aim and fired. The grappling head sped toward its target. Its prongs wouldn't deploy unless it hit something solid or Kim set the line, something she had no intention of doing. The tough, thin cable that trailed the head spooled out, and out, and off the reel inside the gun. Her shot was a little off, Kim noted critically, but in the end it didn't matter. The suction from the fan pulled the grapple into it. The cable wrapped around the fan's shaft and it seized up. All that angular momentum had to go somewhere, and it did, transferring to the hovercraft and spinning it around like a top. Kim gaped in horror as two men were throw off. She hadn't meant to... Ron missed, no surprise, since his aim point was suddenly whipped out of the path of his grapple hook. The hovercraft righted itself and headed toward Killigan again. Kim sighed with relief when the two falling men deployed parachutes. A streak of fire erupted from beneath the airship. A missile. It struck the Intergang vehicle, reducing it to a rain of blazing debris.

'I thought I'd killed them,' Kim thought numbly, gazing at the two parachutes. 'Instead, I saved their lives.'

"Let's go, Ron," Kim ordered, banking toward the airship. Ron was ahead of her, planing down, when a beam of hard blue light flashed out from the airship. The right wing of his flying pack disintegrated. With a cry of surprise and fear, he fell from sight. He, Kim knew, didn't have a parachute.

"NO!" The cry came from the depths of Kim's soul. The world went red as fury blazed up within her. Her eyes locked onto the airship. She charged. It was stupid, she knew. The beam would get her next, well before she reached Killigan. But it didn't. She closed, matched velocities, and hurtled herself at the open door of the gondola, folding the wings of her flying pack just in time to pass through it.

It was fortunate, she would decide later, that Killigan hadn't been there. In her rage, she _would_ have killed him, and that was something she didn't want to do, ever. But he wasn't there. The dirigible was on autopilot. Killigan wasn't there. A bomb was. A big bomb, its timer nearing zero. Instinctively, Kim threw herself out of the gondola.

She waited until the blast wave passed to redeploy the pack's wings. She didn't have a parachute either, and didn't care to have her only means of survival damaged. Survival. Ron. She dove, searching desperately, dreading what she would find.

She found Ron's flying pack lying on an abandoned sidewalk. She found Ron leaning against a building, a dazed expression on his face. Shedding her own pack, she threw herself at him, clutching him in a fierce embrace.

"You're alive!" she exalted, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ron returned the hug almost absently. "Yeah, I'm alive," he mumbled, then shook himself. "I'm not sure how, but I'm alive," he said firmly, tightening his grip on Kim and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm how," a cold voice said. Kim looked up. Overhead was a very angry looking Supergirl. Kara held a winged robot in one hand. Alighting, she crumpled the ten foot machine into a tiny ball as effortlessly as Kim would a sheet of paper.

"Where's Killigan?" she demanded.

Kim threw Kara an apologetic look. "He wasn't on his airship. I don't know what happened to him."

* * *

Maggie Sawyer watched as Supergirl strode into the barn on Killigan's Edgewood estate, or what was left of it. Supergirl's eyes darted to every corner of the barn, then dropped down. With a snarl, she bent forward. Delicate looking fingers sank into the concrete floor. With a twitch of her shoulders Supergirl tore up a ten foot square chuck of the slab, revealing a shaft that dropped into a water filled chamber. A tunnel was visible in the wall on the river side. 

"Mini-sub?" Kim asked.

"Or scuba," Kara guessed. She lifted her gaze and turned her head slowly from side to side. Kim suppressed a shiver as Kara's eyes passed over her. It was an eerie thing to know someone was literally looking right through you. Kara's shoulders slumped.

"I don't see him anywhere," she sighed. "I guess he got away."

Kim sighed too.

"That's something we have in common," she said. Kara gave her a quizzical look.

"We both hate to lose," Kim explained with a bitter smile.

"It's not a total loss, Kim," Sawyer interjected. "Thanks to you, we've snapped up Intergang's _entire_ drug operation. That's a half a billion dollars worth of poison that won't be hitting Metropolis' streets, and a blow Bruno Mannheim will be a long time recovering from."

"And only twenty-seven innocent people had to die for us to accomplish that," Kim said, her voice suddenly harsh. The butchers bill was higher than that, of course. Four police officers and eighteen members of Intergang had perished as well.

"What about Mannheim?" Kara asked.

Sawyer shook her head.

"It'll take time to sort through all the data we captured, but I'll be surprised if we can link him with anything that's happened. He's too clever for that."

"He can't be that clever, if he got involved with Killigan," Kim snapped.

Sawyer just shrugged. "Everyone makes mistakes, even Bruno Mannheim. We'll bag him someday. Maybe not today, but someday."


	10. Afterward

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Made a few minor changes to clarify the middle scene, per criticism from WWLAOS.

Kara turned away from the crowd of reporters, deliberately paying no more attention to Clark and Lois Lane than any of the others.

"One more question, Supergirl!" Lois called. Kara paused and turned back.

"Yes, Ms. Lane?" she asked. She was more than a little surprised that Lois hadn't recognized her, since she'd seen Kara at Clark's apartment. Kara resisted the urge to shake her head in disbelief. Funny what a pair of glasses and a different hairstyle could do, even to a trained observer like Lois. Of course, it was possible that Lois _had_ recognized her, and just wasn't saying anything. For all Kara knew, Lois knew Clark's secret as well.

"Can you tell us anything about when Superman will be back?" Clark had told Kara about the ardor with which Lois had once pursued the Man of Steel, an ardor that carried over into her tone of voice and had made the stubbornly proud woman the butt of more than a few jokes. There was no ardor in her voice now though. Concern yes, but not ardor. Kara fought down a grin. No doubt that was because her interests now focused on a certain Kansas farm boy, rather than a costumed crime fighter.

"Yes I can, Ms. Lane. In fact, I just heard from him this morning." Rao's own truth. Clark had called her from the plane as it winged west across the Atlantic. He had been a bit miffed at being called away from the economic conference and summoned back to Metropolis, partly because circumstances forced him to travel by jet, again, and partly because Lois had agreed, after not too much cajoling, to stay on for a long weekend in the Spanish resort town the conference was being held at.

"He should be back in Metropolis by Monday." Kara did smile then. Clark might be back, but Superman was going to hold off a few more days. It was Kara's idea, but Clark had embraced it enthusiastically. The different return times might throw off anyone who suspected Clark's dual identity.

"Now, if you'll excuse me..." She leapt skyward, and was gone.

* * *

"It just isn't fair!" Jim Possible groused. 

"Yeah!" Tim joined in. "Kim got to meet Supergirl, why can't we?" The Possibles (and one Stoppable) were eating a late breakfast at an outdoor restaurant at the Metropolis Airport. They were checked out of the hotel, their bags had been checked in, and they were whiling away the few remaining hours of their stay in the Big Apricot before their flight departed. The notion of an outdoor dining area at an airport had struck Kim as more than a little odd. She'd expected the noise of jets to make conversation all but impossible, but it hadn't. State of the art sound deadening technology from Luthorcorp was the reason, according to their server. Whatever the case, people in the dining area could converse in normal voices while jets passed silently overhead.

"Now boys," Mrs. Dr. Possible admonished. "Supergirl is a busy person, what with a city the size of Metropolis to look after."

"Besides," Kim added, "It's not like I can just whistle her up whenever I want to, and even if I could, I wouldn't do it just so you could meet her. She's got more important things to do that play meet and greet with you." The words came out a little more harshly than Kim had intended, and the tweebs faces fell. Kim relented at once, and started to say so, but was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Actually, I'm free right at the moment."

They all looked up in time to see Kara touch down beside their table.

"Supergirl!"

Kim's parents looked stunned, and Jim and Tim's jaws were on the floor. Kara turned to Kim and Ron.

"I just wanted to see you off, and say thanks again for your help."

"It was no big," Kim said modestly. What a lie. This had been the biggest mission of her career, bar none. 'Be a little more honest Kim,' she told herself. "It was a pleasure though, to work with you again, Supergirl."

Kara bowed slightly.

"The pleasure was mine," she said. Turning, Kara regarded the four other people at the table.

"These must be your folks." Kim quickly introduced her parents.

"It's a real honor to meet you," Kara said, shaking their hands. She turned to the tweebs.

"And these must be Jim and Tim." The boys blushed furiously, even more so after Kara patted them on their heads.

"Well, I've got to run along. Have a safe trip home and, ah, if you ever do need to 'whistle me up'." It was Kim's turn to blush. Kara produced a card from her belt.

"This number will take you straight to whoever is on monitor duty on the Watchtower."

Kim and Ron stared at the card. "The Justice League?" they exclaimed as one.

Kara grinned. "Superman talked them into making me an associate member. If you need me, just call them and they'll put us in touch." Then she stepped back, said , "Bye now," and flew away.

Jim found his voice first. "Can you believe it? We met Supergirl!" Tim added, in an astonished tone, "Can you believe that skirt? I could see everything!"

Kim and her mother smacked him at the same time.

* * *

Duff Killigan placed a ball on his tee and straightened up. He gazed thoughtfully down the fairway. Three hundred and eighty-five yards. Slight dogleg left. The flag on the pin was fluttering straight at him. He picked up a pinch of grass and let it fall, judging it with a practiced eye. Ten mile an hour headwind. Better use the one wood, keep it low. He gave an order, and his caddy handed him his chosen club. He took a few practice swings, then addressed the ball. 

Crack!

A perfect shot. As he watched the tiny white sphere hurtle through the cloudless blue Jamaican sky, he mulled his present circumstances. He'd gotten out of Metropolis with his skin in one piece, and with a tidy sum of money he'd filched from Intergang. There had been enough to buy himself a new identity and pay for a vacation, with plenty left over for his next criminal enterprise. A month or so relaxing in the Caribbean, and then it would be back to work. In the meantime, he would savor his victory. He had gotten the best of the Metropolis police and their vaunted Special Crimes Unit, as well as Supergirl and Intergang. Sweetest of all though, he'd put one over on Kim Possible. Not many villains could say that. His ball landed in the middle of the fairway and bounced a bit closer to the green. Maybe eighty yards short. He'd be on in two, and one putt for par. Unless he chipped in. It could happen. He'd already done it twice this round. Killigan smiled. Winning, he decided, was something he could definitely get used to.


End file.
